


the nameless fear which precedes all emotions (joyous or sorrowful)

by jessicamiriamdrew



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, Spock focused, jim and nyota and scotty are also present but more background, past spuhura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 14:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/pseuds/jessicamiriamdrew
Summary: “You’d tell me if you weren’t doing okay, right Spock?” Leonard says, staring at the corner crust of his toast.“What could be wrong?” Spock says.The smile he gets this time is uneasy and Spock does not know what he said that was false.





	the nameless fear which precedes all emotions (joyous or sorrowful)

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers through beyond! 
> 
> huge thanks to jewish-mccoy who encouraged me so highly, and karikes, who beta read and helped this become better than it was.
> 
> the title is from tender is the night by f. scott fitzgerald.
> 
> there is a reference to intergenerational trauma caused by the Holocaust in the first few paragraphs, so that no one is caught offguard by this. also, this fic deals heavily with mental illness, so please keep that in mind.

The disadvantage of _your human mother_ is not the first time Spock has felt this rage. They say human and he hears _your Jewish mother_ in echo. He may be an anomaly on the streets of San Francisco, but he does not have to pretend he is not human. His mother is so excited for him to live on Earth, that he decides he should perhaps embrace the emotions that go along with his human side. There is no need for kolinahr if he is a member of Starfleet.

Nyota solidifies this decision as she brings a light and warmth to his world. She is so human and engaging: she reminds him of his mother, although even he is aware that comparison can carry negative connotations on Earth. No judgments pour from her eyes when he lights Shabbat candles on a particularly grueling week.

And then his home planet is murdered, his mother reduced nameless to Lot’s wife turning back. His mother dies with his whole world, disappearing within his sight and the ghost of her touch. It is a loss he had assumed he would not feel soon.

Spock wishes, in the days and weeks and months that follow, that he had gone through with kolinahr. That he had attended the Science Academy. His mother might still be alive.

But gone would be the memories of her visits for Channukah, lighting the candles in the way they always have. A Pesach seder in which they argue about whether Vulcan foods can be considered pareve or kosher for Pesach. Her ability to program the replicators to produce sufganiyot was unparalleled. It may still be. His faith in both his cultures has disappeared. What can the Vulcans and Judaism offer him?

Spock pours himself into Starfleet.

The destruction of his world should have been the first sign. But the fresh outpouring of psychic shock, of intergenerational trauma that already exists in his soul, is hard to tease apart from his own mind. Spock, despite his meditation in the time after, dismisses his rage on the bridge as simple emotional compromise.

He is thirty when the same feelings return: when his rage at Khan, the gaping loss of Jim, and everything else overwhelm him.

Still, it does not concern him. There is little to be said when they have survived.

Spock undergoes his mandated counseling with the therapist on the ship. They, despite their best attempts, cannot comprehend the complexity of emotion within a half-human, half-Vulcan. Very quickly, they clear him for full duty. He knows he is not ready to return.

Nyota, Jim, and Leonard are the only ones who continue to show concern.

It is harder to hide from Nyota. They do not meld because neither of them are prepared for such, but since the death of his mother, she is the person who knows him best.

Jim has melded with his counterpart universe’s self, a concept that makes Spock uneasy at best and troubled at worst. The timelines have significantly diverged, but what pieces of understanding has Jim obtained from the meld? He cannot speak of it to Jim, or his alternate self, although he makes attempts to placate Jim’s worries.

Spock has no hopes of fooling Leonard. For all the brash human emotion that Leonard shows, his mind is subtle and Spock often finds himself uncomfortable under Leonard’s focus. They, too, are friends. If one includes the rest of the crew, Spock has never had so many friends in his entire lifetime.

It puzzles him, being liked.

-

The maintenance of a schedule has always been impressed upon him, by Sarek and his fellow Vulcans. There is an ease to it that soothes his mind, particularly now. He assiduously maintains his shift schedules, rarely opting for days off.

It is, perhaps, a reason that he and Nyota come apart. Spock is rigid, despite how he tries desperately to be otherwise for her. The absence of a schedule makes his mind discomfited. The small concessions he is able to make are not enough. The death of his alternate self, an event that makes his mind splinter, does not help. Spock, as is the pattern, is torn between separate selves, and worlds, and desires.

He loves her, but he cannot give her enough. He wishes, not for the first time, that he could ask his mother about his life. Are his emotional pursuits normal? Should he try to relax? Spock misses eating popsicles as a child and his mother running soothing fingers through his hair.

It is illogical to want to return to the past, with people who no longer exist, but that does not stop him.

-

He is thirty-two when Krall attacks, when his passing hobby of Earth entomology helps save them. Leonard, before that, is responsible for saving Spock’s life, through the use of primitive medical techniques and the ease of a friendship they have been drawn in to.

-

Spock and Nyota reconcile while the crew stays at Yorktown. They spend afternoons with the Sulus, and Spock lets himself imagine having a child with Nyota, with lightly pointed ears and soft brown skin. _Space is a dangerous place for a child_ , the voice in his mind that shows influence of Leonard says. He thinks of his mother, her desire for grandchildren, and prays to her G-d that he can make something right.

He cannot, he discovers. They visit New Vulcan together and he knows that Sarek approves of Nyota, as much as he can. Spock wishes Sarek’s approval and New Vulcan meant more to him. It is not his home, after all, a mere facsimile of his culture. Sarek is less to him without his mother’s influence.

-

Nyota is distressed when she breaks up with him for the final time. Spock desires to stop her, but there is little he can say.

“You need something else,” she says.

Spock remembers the way her black hair would fall around him in bed and watches her walk away. His mother would have told him to try harder, but she is not here. That, in itself, is the problem.

-

It is approximately six months post Krall’s attack, and five weeks since Nyota ended their relationship. The Enterprise is ready for them to continue their mission, all of the bridge crew returning. It is good to be home, though Nyota keeps her demeanor cool and polite, a reversal of their initial positions when meeting at the Academy.

There is a relief, though, to not have to pretend to feel what he is supposed to. Spock spends the majority of his evenings after shift alone. He and Jim play chess every one point five weeks, sometimes more frequently, if Jim remembers to ask him a day in advance.

Spock is loath to change any events the day of. The duties of the ship do not count: there is no way for him personally to control unexpected boardings, ambassadorial meetings that continue for longer than necessary. On the whole, he does not enjoy the changes to his routine.

He reads the Earth fiction his mother enjoyed and tries to understand the enduring popularity of _Pride and Prejudice_. All he recognizes are people who cannot control their emotions, but he reads it once a year regardless. Spock’s fingers always trace the carefully printed _Amanda Grayson_ on the front cover of a paper book.

-

His schedule switches from alpha to gamma, due to the complexities of the current star systems they are traveling in. The bridge crew complains without heat, but Leonard raises an alarm about how such an abrupt change to their schedules will do them all harm. Jim simply claps Leonard on the shoulder and tells him to worry less.

Spock finds himself wondering if there is something to what Leonard says when he finds himself unable to regulate his sleep. Normally, he requires no more than four and a half hours of sleep. The third day of gamma shift, he oversleeps. This is the first time it has ever occurred.

It is Leonard who tracks him down in his quarters, entering his room with a medical override code. It seems Spock has slept through the first two hours of his shift. Leonard quickly comms Jim to tell him that Spock has come down with “some kind of weird Vulcan fever, no, I won’t tell you more than that.” Spock is embarrassed, and grateful.

“I do not understand,” Spock says. “I have never been unable to regulate my sleep patterns, except…”

The trailing off sentence is uncharacteristic but Leonard fills in the unfortunate blank.

“Right, well,” Leonard says, still waving a tricorder over him, “I told Jim that switching us all to gamma so quickly was a bad idea.”

“I do not have a fever,” Spock says, as he finally sits down at his small table for breakfast. Being in his pajamas at such a late hour reminds him of the mornings his mother would tell him stories in the morning and bring him pancakes in bed.

Leonard sits down across from him, crisp in his uniform, although Spock has issued no such invitation. “It’s true enough,” Leonard says. “I may not fully get Vulcan culture, but lack of sleep can be considered an illness.”

Spock chews on his replicated toast and considers the merit of what Leonard has said.

“Besides, this means I can tell Jim that you have the Vulcan chickenpox.” Leonard’s willingness to lie for him—to embellish, he amends—is another bewildering aspect to this day.

He offers Leonard a piece of toast and Leonard accepts it with what Spock terms a roguish smile. Reading Earth fiction is clearly affecting his thought patterns and vocabulary.

They sit in silence, save the crunching of toast, and it is a relaxation Spock did not know he was missing. It reminds him slightly of breakfasts with Nyota, a routine that had become familiar by the end of their relationship.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t doing okay, right Spock?” Leonard says, staring at the corner crust of his toast.

“What could be wrong?” Spock says.

The smile he gets this time is uneasy and Spock does not know what he said that was false.

-

At Leonard’s urging—indeed, the paperwork has been filed before he can protest—Spock allows himself a second day to adjust his sleep schedule. He replicates pancakes and reads the latest novel on his PADD that Jim has leant him.

Nyota comes by in the hours after gamma shift to check on him. Spock is in the same pajamas he wore the day before. He should not have let her in.

She hovers barely inside his room, clearly torn about her decision to come visit him. “Leonard said you had a fever. Are you feeling better?”

“My day off today was merely a precaution to avoid the return of my illness,” Spock says.

Nyota smiles, an echo of the smile she used to only show to him, and tells him she’s glad he’s feeling better. She means what she says, he believes, but he does not understand the discomfort that lingers after she departs.

It occurs to him that other than times of grievous injury, he has never stayed in the same clothes for multiple days.

-

Once he adapts fully to gamma shift, a process that takes another six days, he finds that he needs less sleep than usual. How silly it was that he took those days off. Spock stays late in the science labs, monitoring his currently running experiments and then proceeding to start new ones. After a few weeks, having started a myriad of experiments and still having spare time, he volunteers to assist with other science crewmember’s experiments, an act which causes a junior member of his and Leonard’s dual medical and science team to drop her PADD.

In an act of magnanimousness, her experiments are the ones he first assists. It is what is his 3am when he finishes her experiment, the rest of gamma shift having long since disappeared. The current shift keeps their distance from him. Before Spock meditates for the night, he writes up their results, remembering that it would be polite to list the crewmember as first author.

-

Spock should not be surprised when two point five hours later, Leonard shows up at his door. He is engaged in light meditation, having found that his need for meditation has also decreased. The chime of the computer announcing the medical override is surprisingly pleasant.

He quickly unfolds himself from his shrine: he finds he is glad to see Leonard. Perhaps gamma shift agrees with him after all.

Leonard is less pleased, judging by the rumpled clothing and the expression that usually means Jim has done something wrong.

“Why the hell did you finish Ensign Tarrin’s experiment and write it up?” Leonard steps close to him, closer than they have been since Altamid. It is alarming, reminiscent of something he cannot yet remember.

“I assumed she would be satisfied to see her workload reduced,” he says.

“She’s been working on this for a month and you knocked it out in a few hours,” Leonard says. Spock has never understood the human connotation of an angry sheen to a set of eyes before this moment.

Spock steps back and draws his robe tightly around his body. “I simply sought to operate at peak productiveness for the ship.”

“Not everyone is so gifted, Spock,” Leonard says. “Ensign Tarrin thinks she pissed you off somehow, or that you thought her work was shoddy.” Leonard steps forward, not allowing Spock to retreat at the pace he desires.

“I did not think,” Spock says.

Leonard chuckles, lowly, and yet Spock knows nothing about this situation is humorous. Two people on the ship are displeased with his behavior. He is supposed to be an exemplar of both his species. “A first time for everything, I guess.”

His heart cannot be cut by words, the assertion otherwise is a metaphorical device which he generally despises. But in this moment, it seems a piece of his heart is bleeding unnaturally.

“Please leave me,” Spock says. He will eventually have to seek further clarification on this matter. He cannot tolerate having caused such a response in both Leonard and a member of his team.

-

The energy level he had been so steadily cultivating starts to ebb away. Spock has never suffered from a lack of energy, those few days of adjustment notwithstanding.

“Jim,” he says over breakfast in the officer’s lounge. “What is it that you find so enjoyable about coffee?”

Vulcan tea does not contain caffeine and the containing of caffeine seems to be a primary reason humans consume both tea and coffee. Spock is well aware of the effects of caffeine on humans but struggles to understand why it is enjoyable.

The only time he has ever tried coffee was when he was ten years old and his mother stayed up all night studying the Torah. Simchat Torah, despite being a minor holiday, was his mother’s favorite because of the emphasis on study. They split a piece of cheesecake and he took a small sip of her coffee. It was bitter in a parallel way to the Vulcan tea for which he had not yet developed a taste. She laughed kindly at his expression and proceeded to order a different kind from the replicator. This one was sweet, lingering on his palate. His mother allowed him only a few more sips throughout their night of study. Spock does not think that the coffee produced by replicators on the Enterprise can be nearly as enjoyable.

Jim quirks an eyebrow at him, placing his coffee down on the table. The smell of it is sweeter than the black kind that Leonard drinks. “It’s a morning ritual,” he says. “And I can use the energy boost.”

“Perhaps I should try it,” Spock says. His head feels sluggish in a way it never has before.

The expression on Jim’s face is bemused but Jim offers to replicate him a cup.

When the steaming cup is in front of him, he tries to soothe his mind from the recent discomfort. Spock has not seen Leonard in anything other than passing. He did present an apology to Ensign Tarrin, which she seemed to accept.

Leonard’s appearance in the officer’s lounge should not be surprising as he is indeed an officer. He stares into the cup of too warm coffee—a latte, Jim said—and lets his thoughts drift. Previously, the breakfasts he shared with Jim had been on their way to becoming their own ritual. Another comfort to his mind so soothed by schedules.

It was a prior certainty that Leonard would sit next to him, so they could bicker in their way. Occasionally, their bodies would touch and Spock would withdraw. Today, Leonard opts to sit with Scotty.

“Booones,” Jim whines. “You aren’t going to ignore me and Spock, are you?”

Spock does not allow himself to turn around to see the expression on Leonard’s face. It will not be satisfactory.

“The grownups are talking,” Leonard dismisses, and his voice drops down to a normal conversational level. He and Scotty are discussing their next social drinking encounter and Spock desperately wants to be somewhere else.

-

“Ensign Tarrin told me you apologized to her,” Leonard says as he slides his dinner tray in front of Spock’s own. “That was good of you.” Leonard hesitates, the line of tension slight but still present, before he sits down.

“I told you I intended no harm,” Spock says. This evening he has ordered a mocha, after a shift in which he yawned so frequently Chekov asked him if he was okay.

Leonard bumps his foot under the table and it feels like an apology of its own. He is gratified that Leonard has forgiven him.

They eat while trading remarks about their latest experiments and it is the most normal encounter Spock has had in weeks.

“I meant it, you know,” Leonard says.

Spock’s heart constricts in the side of his body. A million potential things Leonard has said about Spock’s behavior, at the time appearing to be in jest, flit through his mind.

“About you telling me if you’re okay,” Leonard continues.

He hides the upturn of his mouth in his coffee cup, schooling his expression before he sets it back down.

“I am quite well, Leonard.”

It is not a lie, even if it is not the truth. He learned that from Leonard.

-

It is Lieutenant Chekov’s birthday which means that the schedules have been coordinated so that the bridge crew can celebrate together.

His body burns but it is not time for Pon Farr; there are other symptoms that have not appeared. He has never so needed a person in his bed. With Nyota, he wanted her, but his flesh did not simmer like this thinking of her touch. It feels cruel to acknowledge his mind has changed so.

“Leonard,” Spock breathes once he tracks him down. “Are you enjoying the party?” He sips at his drink—something both chocolatey and alcoholic.

Leonard's skin is flushed, possibly from the drink Spock knows is bourbon by the smell. It is a smell he so intimately associates with Leonard, though he has yet to taste it.

"Better now that you're here," Leonard says, voice low and thick like the agave syrup for which Spock has developed a fondness.

His body feels loose, less dense than he logically knows it to be. He leans into Leonard's personal space, violating the bubble rule for both human and Vulcan societies.

"May I?" Spock asks, inclining his head towards Leonard's glass. It is not the same as what he wants—the taste of it on Leonard's skin must surely be better—but he does not yet know how to ask for that.

Their fingertips brush as Leonard passes him the glass and that feeling of pleasantness redoubles in his body.

Spock takes a slow sip of the bourbon, rolls the liquid around in his mouth, before swallowing. Even in his inebriated state, he can feel Leonard's eyes on him.

The burn of the bourbon warms him further, or perhaps it is the lingering touch of Leonard's hand wrapping around his as Leonard reclaims his glass.

“You don’t strike me as much of a bourbon man,” Leonard says, finishing his statement with a long pull of the amber liquid.

“Anything is possible, doctor.”

The look that flashes on Leonard’s face is too much for Spock to interpret. Spock does not know how to control the sparks under his skin and he leaves Leonard, making excuses of mingling.

There is an ensign in engineering that Spock finds intriguing, but the ensign is too quiet and his hands are too small. Spock eventually loses sight of Leonard, something that troubles him.

It is so easy to make his departures to the room, to retire himself to a different setting. Spock is pleasantly tipsy, his skin warmer than usual. The effort to modulate his voice to disguise his state is even enjoyable. He wishes Lieutenant Chekov a happy birthday again and begins a leisurely return to his quarters.

Leonard is waiting for him outside the door, holding a bottle of bourbon.

"May I?" Leonard parrots.

Spock has no reason to keep him out, and a myriad of reasons to want him inside. Leonard is careful when he places the bourbon bottle on the table. Spock watches his steady hands pour out one drink. Leonard’s tongue chases the drop of bourbon that clings to his lips after a first sip.

Spock’s hands tremble when Leonard offers him the glass. He anticipates the burn, and the heat of Leonard’s eyes is not quite as frightening this time. Spock takes a slow, careful sip, maintaining eye contact with Leonard.

In lieu of handing the glass back to Leonard, Spock sets it on the table next to the bottle. There is no need for words at this moment: a thrill in his body tells him that Leonard will not stop him.

Indeed, Leonard does not remove the hand Spock sets on his waist. The kiss is deliberate, like every decision Spock has ever made. Leonard is less so, kissing him back with a fervor that matches the one Spock has been trying to subsume.

Leonard tastes of bourbon and Spock pursues the hint of caramel that lingers on his lips. Stubble grows on Leonard’s face and Spock cannot resist the opportunity to stroke his hands over it: a rough exterior over soft skin, much like the doctor himself.

“Look at you,” Leonard says, a note of appreciation in his voice. Spock does not want to be revered.

He wants to say _I cannot_ but the words are thick in his mouth and his head. Instead he settles, as that is what his life is become, for sliding his hands under Leonard’s shirt. The cotton is both cool and warm, the fabric maintaining and repulsing the heat of Leonard’s body. A look of hesitation flits across Leonard’s face and Spock pushes it away with another kiss. He will not waste this night.

The moments that it takes for them to get undressed blur by, and Leonard’s hands are phantoms that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his life. Kisses sear both their bodies and Leonard who is so loud in public is quiet here.

The haze of alcohol slowly drifts from his mind the more their bodies entangle. The taste of bourbon is gone from Leonard’s mouth and his skin tenses and thrums with anticipation as Leonard moves his lips down Spock’s body.

“It’s been a while,” Leonard says, an apology that is unasked for and unnecessary, as nothing that happens tonight, Spock thinks, could be displeasing.

Leonard’s mouth trails kisses along the inside of his thighs and Spock lets go of the gasps he’s been holding in. The feeling of Leonard’s mouth on his cock is enough to make Spock jolt half upright, and it is only Leonard’s palm on his stomach that allows him to ease back to a horizontal position.

“Oh,” Spock says. He has thought about Leonard doing this before, but to actually have it—he cannot help that his hands grab at Leonard’s hair. The hazel eyes that stare up at him are bold and unrepentant and Spock wants to live in this exact moment.

When Leonard’s mouth is too much and the noises won’t stop spilling from Spock, Leonard stops, sitting back slyly on his heels. Spock is diffident in the wake of the pleasure still curling along his spine.

“Please,” Spock says.

Leonard fits their bodies together, kissing Spock again. Spock’s toes curl most incongruously as their cocks brush together and all Spock wants is for Leonard to be part of him. He slides his fingers carelessly across Leonard’s face, receiving echoes of pleasure from Leonard’s mind. The shock of their minds has Leonard swearing against the crux of his neck. “Please,” he says again, and Leonard kisses a line up his neck to his jawbone.

“I’ve got you,” he says into Spock’s ear, pausing to nibble before he makes any further movements.

The brief moments where Leonard disappears to replicate lubricant leave Spock feeling headier, a discomfort only eased by the returning press of Leonard’s pale, white body.

Leonard whispers useless platitudes into Spock’s hipbone as Leonard fingers him open. It is harder to focus on the moment, with the skin contact and the pleasure Leonard is inducing within him. Spock is adrift within his body: it is only the noises that Leonard makes as he fucks him that manages to ground Spock. It is a bit of electricity that he wants to curl up inside him, the way Leonard swears and apologizes all in the same breath.

When pleasure pours through him, Leonard slows down, pulling away the sparks that were so close. Spock grabs Leonard for a kiss that draws blood. Leonard’s dazed chuckle convinces Spock again of the auspiciousness of their merging.

Leonard is soft and gentle with him, after. He gets a towel and cleans them both up. There is a moment of hesitation in which Spock wonders if he is supposed to ask him to stay or leave. In the end, Leonard does not ask, merely climbing back into bed and curling around Spock.

He does not sleep until the emotions from Leonard’s skin turn into those reminiscent of the deepest stages of somnolence.

In the morning, when he rouses, the sheets are cool, no hint of human warmth to be found. Spock refuses to speculate on alternate causes when there is the obviousness of his own unsatisfactory presence.

-

He and Jim used to spend much of their time together playing chess but one afternoon Jim pulled out a pack of old fashioned playing cards. There is a mix of chance and logic that appeals greatly to them both. Jim is, other than Nyota, his closest friend.

“Were we happy in the other universe?” he asks. Despite Jim’s frequent brags that he wins their chess and card games, they rarely play for points.

Jim hesitates and collapses his hand of cards. The two of them have not participated in anything other than surface melds.

“I think so,” Jim says. “Nyota and Scotty, you know, isn’t that wild.”

Spock blinks at his playing cards, where the cat monarchs and jester features are blurring together. “That is quite interesting,” he says.

“You and Nyota are a quirk of this universe,” Jim says, grabbing the cards around the table. Spock folds his hand and slides them toward Jim’s pile.

“Bones had a daughter over there,” Jim continues. “He and Jocelyn were together that long.”

An image of Leonard holding a baby springs into his mind and it makes Spock ache so deeply for a future where that is even a possibility.

“He does not—?” Spock asks, the words clumsy in his mouth.

Jim smiles, a bit sadly, and shuffles the deck of cards. “No, he and Jocelyn could never agree on it.”

Despite his best efforts, Jim will not tell him anything about his own life in the other universe beyond vague missions and stories of the never-ending friendship between the crew.

Would Spock give up what he has here for a lifetime of memories with his mother? In that world, she exists for a far longer time than this one. Spock cannot decide but the irritation that creeps in his spine surely must be related.

The alternate Spock survived the destruction of his own universe and then witnessed the death of Vulcan. Spock wonders what about the other timeline was so important that it had to destroy his own.

He does not understand, later, when the tears fall hot and heavy down his face, almost burning his skin where they track. Spock does not eat dinner that evening. He locks his room to the highest specifications and overrides the computer to say that he is in a permissions required lab room.

Perversely, he wishes someone would notice his absence. Even in this universe, it seems, he is destined to be alone.

-

He has not seen Leonard since Lieutenant Chekov’s birthday in anything other than passing greetings or the briefings they both are required to attend.

The material of the lunch tray is heavy in his hands, more weighted than he knows logically it is. The soup on his plate looks unappetizing and the soft bread that had seemed so appealing earlier now appears as stone, to his mind.

Spock steels himself and takes his tray to sit down in front of Leonard.

“Good afternoon,” Spock says. The stiffness he feels in his body is reflected in his tone and Spock fights back a grimace.

“Afternoon,” Leonard replies, glancing up from his PADD.

Once, Spock would have made no secret of immediately reading the screen. If, indeed, he even needed to, since Leonard was in the habit of informing him about the latest article he was reading on his meal breaks.

He turns his eyes toward the still unappetizing tray. Spock eats his lunch regardless: with the presence of food, he can pretend he sat here only as a means to facilitate brief camaraderie.

“After the party,” Spock says. He leans in and lowers his voice. “In the morning,” he adds. Like Leonard could possibly not remember. It is a shameful thing, to do this in public, but he has not seen Leonard in their normal settings.

Leonard stabs at his salad. “We were drunk,” he says.

Spock does not see how that mitigates what has occurred. He is aware of a certain proclivity toward irresponsible behavior while intoxicated, but he knows that neither of them were that far beyond their sensibilities.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Leonard says. Spock cannot read the look he receives.

Spock feels marinated in Leonard’s silence and his seeming disinclination to continue their conversation. He eats as much as he can manage before he returns to the bridge, a cool twenty minutes early.

-

Given the abundance of free time (due to the absence of time spent with Leonard, now that Spock knows his presence means nothing), Spock finds that he cannot stop himself from watching the way Scotty and Nyota interact, now. She seems to spend more time in engineering, talking to Scotty in the various languages of his part of earth.

He greatly desires her happiness: this has not changed. But he now wonders why it could not have been with him. It is a thought that worms its way under his hybrid skull, into a brain that is torn between the desires of his mother and father.

It is a difficult thing to know that his thoughts are not the way he should feel. They slip through his mind like the deserts of his lost planet.

-

Perhaps it is the combination of the multiple caffeinated coffee beverages he has, that cause a trembling in his hands, and the thoughts that circle and never cease that convinces him there could be a medical cause for his distress. Leonard will likely be able to diagnose it with his tricorder, and then Spock can go back to normal and their uneasy truce.

“Haven’t seen much of you lately,” Leonard says while he examines him with a tricorder.

“I have been busy,” Spock says. This time he recognizes it as a lie and it is bitter in his mouth. “I am preoccupied,” he clarifies.

Leonard sets asides the tricorder and sits down across from him. Spock tries not to imagine the last time they were so close.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with you.”

_Oh_ , Spock thinks. Then this may just be the human and Vulcan emotions at war with each other. Perhaps it would be wise to undergo kolinahr after all. Then he will be able to focus on what matters and not the mess of moods that interfere with his life as a Starfleet officer.

_As always, whatever you choose to be, you will have a proud mother._

“Excuse me,” he says, rising from the biobed. Spock cannot show emotion like this in front of Leonard. It is not becoming a Vulcan, even a half one. Spock does not turn to see if Leonard follows him: he does not know which outcome he would prefer.

-

The itch in his skin starts again, one that he had assumed sated after his night with Leonard. Had that evening gone differently, he imagines he would find himself outside Leonard’s cabin. But Spock cannot go to Leonard— _it doesn’t have to mean anything—_ and he will not be so disrespectful as to suggest a resumption of sexual activities between himself and Nyota.

No, it is Jim’s quarters that he steps into as soon as they swish open. Spock is not accustomed to the art of seduction—in fact, he has never had a need.

When Jim greets him, however, he cannot go through with it. He spends several agonizing minutes sitting next to Jim on his couch trying to obtain the nerve to make a move, as in common parlance. Spock thinks it might be an easier universe if he and Jim desired each other that way.

What happens instead is he tells Jim about the way bourbon tastes on Leonard’s mouth.

“Bones mentioned that, actually,” Jim says. “Chekov’s party.” Jim gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder before returning his hands to his lap.

 “He doesn’t do casual,” Jim says, “you must have really done something to get him to agree to a one night stand.”

The closed off language of Jim’s body hits him like a phaser to his core. “You and the doctor,” he states. There is not a question to ask.

“In a different world, maybe,” Jim says. There is a quality of wistfulness to Jim’s voice that resonates within Spock.

“I am sorry,” Spock says. There is so much that Jim deserves—but even he cannot change the course of someone’s feelings.

Jim smiles and gestures toward his porthole. “I’m married to the stars, anyway.”

Spock is not certain he could be so content.

-

 “You didn’t let me finish your exam,” Leonard says, three days later. It is one hour before their shift starts and that intense feeling of irritation crawls across Spock’s skin.

“You said nothing was wrong.” Spock keeps his arm tight against the door frame. He does not wish for even Leonard’s company this morning. Indeed, Leonard’s company is too confusing after the night he remembers in sharp, hungry flashes.

Leonard sighs and does something for which Spock could not have prepared. He bends down and walks under Spock’s body. The door whooshes shut behind him and Spock stands still, blinking rapidly. He hears the buttons of the replicator being punched and then the familiar sound of brewing liquid. Spock turns from the door, back to the corner where Leonard is preparing what appears to be two cups of tea.

“Sit,” Leonard says and Spock wants to remind him that they are in his quarters, not the medical bay, but he is too tired to argue.

Spock sips at the tea—rooibos with honey—and does his best not to squirm under Leonard’s calculating stare.

“Do they have mental health disorders on Vulcan?” Leonard asks after a few moments of tea drinking.

“Vulcans do not engage their emotions in the way humans do; surely even you have learnt that much by now.” The tea burns his tongue on his next sip.

“Spock,” Leonard says, placing his hand over one of Spock’s own. “I’m not trying to pry, or embarrass you.”

“Am I ill?” he asks. Spock knows conceptually about mental illnesses but they were not discussed on Vulcan. He wonders how many of the individuals who undergo kolinahr may be those who had this kind of struggle.

“I think based on your human medical history, you may have a genetic predisposition to mental health concerns.” Leonard withdraws his hand, taking the sparks of worry and concern that floated from him with the removal of his skin.

“You contacted Sarek,” Spock says. That is the only way Leonard could know anything of his mother’s heritage. Spock inclines his head and then turns down to the tea cup.

“This may have hidden in PTSD after Vulcan,” Leonard says. “Combined with the events of the last few years, this may have triggered the bipolar present in your mother’s line.”

“You do not deserve to speak of my mother,” Spock says. “Please remove yourself from my quarters or I will do so myself.” He cannot listen to Leonard disparage his mother’s memory. Would his mother have ever told him? Did she hope that he would explore his emotions and ask her? Worse, did she pray that he would remove the emotions from his damaged neurons?

He cannot even ask her burial site as it is a black hole. He cannot place stones in her memory as they did with his grandparents. They are all lost to him. Spock, himself, is a dead end.

Spock escorts Leonard bodily from the room, trying to keep his strength in check.

“Dammit, Spock, we’re worried about you!” Leonard yells from the opposite side of his quarters.

He does not wish to exist as a human if it means feeling so much.

-

Spock schedules himself for alpha shift, telling Jim he has experiments he needs to monitor. They are in a peaceful quadrant of the universe. Jim has no reason to decline his paperwork. Leonard refuses to sign off on his shift change, citing medical concerns. Jim refuses to veto Leonard: perhaps there is no loyal triumvirate in this universe.

Spock wanders the ship until he finds himself on one of the farthest observation decks, remembers stories of early explorers who caught space fever and let themselves out into the black death. He thinks he understands, now, how one could walk into nothingness without regret.

-

The painful white emptiness twists at his mind until he finds himself considering how difficult it would be to disappear from the ship. It is a weakness that he goes to Nyota but Spock recognizes that he cannot be alone.  She lets him in, the under-eye circles on her russet skin notwithstanding, and wraps him in an embrace. He tries to remember the last time he was hugged and cannot. She still smells of cardamom and the scent is soothing.

She leads him gently to her bed, though they are now separated by a gulf emotionally.

“I do not like the person I have become,” he says. The tears that follow are shameful but she rubs circles on his back and does not admonish him for wetting her shirt.

“Stay the night here,” she says, gentle.

They will never be again what they were but she raises the temperature by ten degrees and wraps him up in her blankets. They spend the night curled around each other. Several times he wakes her up to tell her of the darkness that rests in him, the way poison has seeped into him.

“I love you,” she says, and it is not less true for being a different kind than before.

“I love you too,” he says only when he knows she is asleep. He slips out of her bed when she is in the deepest stages of her sleep cycle. Before he leaves, Spock presses a kiss to her forehead.

-

His quarters are warm when he stumbles back to them, the distinctly Vulcan centric temperature a relief after the somewhat clammy temperature of Nyota’s cabin. Leonard is asleep on his couch, under his eyes dark. It pains Spock to think he was the cause of such circles.

Spock cannot resist reaching out to read the surface of Leonard’s thoughts, dreams though they are, and brushes their hands together. Worry pours out of his skin and Spock jerks his hand back.

“Spock,” Leonard says hazily, sitting upright. His features are creased with sleep and worry. “I couldn’t find you, so I just—”

“I spent the night with Nyota,” he says. “She is my best friend,” he adds, trusting Leonard can understand that he means nothing more by it.

Spock sits next to him on the couch, their legs touching.

“I shouldn’t have waited in your quarters,” Leonard says. “I just figured you’d come back eventually.” Leonard shrugs the half shrug that Spock finds so endearing. The silence between them stretches until the agonies of Spock’s mind cannot be silent.

“I do not always want to exist,” Spock says. Leonard remains outwardly impassive but the press of his leg is more insistent, like he is reassuring them both of Spock’s continued life.

“Who am I to you?” Spock asks some minutes later. “Are you this concerned with all your patients?”

_Would your life not be improved if I disappeared?_ is what he refuses to voice. Spock does not think he can live with certain answers Leonard might provide.

“Your friend,” Leonard says, though the twist of his face suggests there is more to it than that. But Leonard is still and not forthcoming, and Spock cannot be the only one to express feelings. He does not trust that the emotions he skimmed from Leonard mean what he prays.

Friends, Spock thinks. He has never had so many in his life nor wanted so desperately for one to become something else.

“I am fine, doctor,” Spock says, rising from the couch. “Perhaps I simply required a good night’s sleep.” He heads to the replicator, adding extra espresso to his normal morning latte. Spock hears no sound of Leonard leaving.

“Have a good day, doctor,” Spock says. It is intended as a dismissal. Spock does not allow himself to turn from the replicator until he hears the movements of Leonard’s departure.

 

-

Spock cannot continue this way, worrying that another emotional destruction is imminent. Maybe in the other universe, he and Leonard loved each other in this way Spock so desperately fears. But this universe holds only absence and so that is what Spock must become.

He is the first officer and no one can stop him from leaving, particularly not when it comes to questions of Vulcan tradition.

Spock catches Jim at the end of their shift, appearing in his office at precisely five minutes until they are both off the clock. The PADD he slides over is fully populated, requiring only Jim’s approval.

“What is all this, Spock?” Jim asks as he reads. Spock possibly was unfair with his riddling of the documents with as much Vulcan as possible.

“I require healing on New Vulcan,” Spock says. The absence of emotion feels perversely palpable, something that he could touch at this exact moment. “Doctors McCoy and M’Benga are unable to help me, though they are both highly qualified.”

He has forged the records stating that he met with Doctor M’Benga. By the time that Jim discovers the falsehoods, Spock will already be at New Vulcan, where he will either disappear into the sands of the planet like his mother or no longer care about the enormity of existence.

Jim frowns at him and sets the PADD down. “Spock, if this is about what we discussed—“

“Surely you do not think me so troubled by emotion, Captain?” Every title that he uses in place of a first name is a reclamation of his identity.

“No,” Jim says. “You have your shuttle authorization and time off.” Jim picks up the PADD and signs the required documents, setting Spock’s blood thrumming. “I expect to hear regular updates from you.”

“Of course, captain.” Spock takes the PADD and executes a perfect about face. There are a few things he must take care of before he departs.

“Spock,” Jim says, and Spock stops in place. “Just…be safe, please.” Spock continues his path out the door.

-                               

He composes his letter to Nyota in twenty first century Hebrew. They used to send much of their correspondence in Hebrew and it still provides him a comfort, his mind slipping into the language of his youth.

_You were once the best part of me, and I bequeath you my mother’s memory._

Spock cannot say more without upending his entire plan. He adds a quote from an old American classic, leaving it in the original English.

“I don't ask you to love me always like this but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.”

It is not meant entirely for Nyota.

-

Leonard McCoy is going out of his goddamn mind. The ship won’t tell him where Spock is, which isn’t that unusual, but even his medical override code isn’t working. He’s checked all the labs where Spock has currently running experiments and has chased down more than one ensign.

No one has seen Spock. And it’s not like Spock could leave the fucking Enterprise without permission—

_Oh_ , Leonard thinks. That’s how he ends up court martialed. Forget that damn mirror universe they came across, in this one he’ll be court martialed for murdering his best friend.

When he makes it to Jim’s office, the entry code has been changed. “Really, Jim!”

The one benefit to being CMO is that even Jim can’t overdo the medical override. He lets himself in, thinking about all the ways he’ll murder him, but Nyota is already inside the office.

“Get in line,” she says, voice tight. “This idiot let Spock leave.”

Jim’s eyes are bloodshot and he’s clearly been in his uniform for longer than their regular eight hours.

“How do you even know, Lieutenant?”

Nytoa smiles, but it’s the saddest one Leonard has ever seen. “He left me a message,” she says. She opens it on her PADD and lays it on Jim’s desk.

Jim squints at it and so does Leonard. Of course, it’s a different language, although one that Leonard at least recognizes as of Earth.

Nyota sighs and hits a few buttons on the screen, switching it from what is apparently Hebrew to Standard. Leonard would swear he’s actually been punched in the gut, reading the damn thing.

“He said he needed healing, that Bones and M’Benga had said they couldn’t help him.” Jim is reading the words over again, and the wheels whirring are practically audible to Leonard.

“You didn’t think to check, Jim, before letting him go?”

Leonard should have put Spock under mandatory medical bay supervision weeks prior. He let his own stupid emotions get in the way of doing his job—

Nyota reaches out and touches him on the arm. It’s calming, though the fear inscribed in her eyes makes a fresh wave sink through his skin. “I don’t think this part was meant for me,” she says softly, drawing his eyes to the quoted words.

His mouth goes dry at the multifaceted implications: that Spock returns this thing they’ve been dancing around, and that Spock does not intend for it to last.

“He has mentioned kolinahr to me before,” Nyota says. “He could simply intend to purge himself of all remaining emotions.”

“Would Sarek know?” Jim asks.

Leonard thinks of the hurt on Spock’s face that Leonard had reached out to Sarek. “No,” Leonard says, “but he may be able to find out.”

-

They split up into their separate tasks. Nyota pours through Spock’s PADD, hacking through his passwords with an ease that Leonard envies.

Sarek assures Leonard that he has placed every incoming shuttlecraft to New Vulcan under analysis and that he will let them know when Spock arrives.

“M’Benga’s notes are a forgery,” Jim announces. No shit, Leonard bites back. If M’Benga had spent any time with him, there’s no way he would’ve cleared Spock for any kind of off ship adventure.

“He thought you didn’t want him, Bones,” Jim says. Leonard shoots a glance at Nyota but she merely lifts an eyebrow at him, a picture-perfect imitation of Spock.

“Why in the hell would he think that?” Leonard had shown up at his cabin, chased him down to continue a medical exam…

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Nyota says, and her dark eyes show a hint of accusation. “That’s what you told him.”

Laughter rocks the relative quiet of the office. Jim coughs, trying to stop laughing, but a few more peals escape him. “And people say Vulcans struggle with emotion, sweet Moses.”

Nyota’s comm starts to buzz and she answers it without pause.

“He parked our shuttle at Starbase 2304 approximately two hours ago,” Scotty’s voice says through the comm. “I’ve managed to delay him by hacking the power grid and emptying his credits.” Nyota murmurs her thanks and closes the comm.

“You told Scotty,” Leonard says.

“He is acting First Officer,” Jim says drily. Leonard scowls at him; the chain of command of the Enterprise is currently irrelevant.

The possibilities start to spiral out before him: although Scotty is tracking him, there’s no guarantee that Spock can’t figure a way around it. The power grid malfunction is probably also suspicious to Spock.

“I have to go there,” he says. “You have to get me to the starbase.”

“Bones, by the time you get there, Spock will be long gone.”

Leonard closes his eyes and grimaces. “You’ll have to beam me there while we’re traveling at warp.” He hates beaming enough as is and the thought of beaming from transwarp to a stationery area makes his stomach lurch.

Jim doesn’t miss a beat, paging Scotty to his office. The minutes they wait are fragile and Leonard thinks the entire damn thing is his fault, although his few psychology courses are telling him that’s bullshit.

“Oh, we can do it,” Scotty says when they’ve filled him in on their plan. “And you probably won’t even die!”

-

Sulu announces the ship’s shift to warp as Leonard steps onto the transport pad. Scotty claims to have selectively restored power to one landing area, so that Leonard is less likely to have his atoms dematerialize and be stuck at warp forever. Comforting, really, but the anxiety Leonard feels for Spock is outweighing his own panic.

Jim claps him on the back like this is a routine mission. “Let us know when you make it, Bones.” Leonard steels his shoulders and smiles tightly. The worried faces of Jim, Scotty, and Nyota are the last thing he sees before his molecules disintegrate.

-

Leonard knows that _logically_ there’s no time to feel any part of the beaming process. It’s done before half spoken sentences can be completed. That doesn’t change the sense of unease that always coats his body after warping. On a starbase he’s never been to, it’s particularly grotesque feeling. What he should do is find a comm station so he can tell them he’s here—but it’s not like Scotty isn’t tracking him. No, what he needs to do is figure out where the hell Spock would hide.

He pulls out his PADD from his bag with fumbling fingers and types in his search query. Starbase 2304 has one publicly accessible library and one religious worship space. Naturally they’re on separate sides of the damn base.

The starbase has partial lighting from backup generators but there’s still an eerie feeling to creeping around in the dark. If the map on his PADD is correct, then he’s got to be getting close. At least the inhabitants here have the sense to stay inside during a freak electrical storm or whatever the hell Scotty is making this appear to be.

Leonard chose the chapel, because the damn note was in Hebrew and that has to mean something, right? He fights down irrational panic at the exterior of the chapel being dark and takes a step inside.

Spock is sitting in the front row, facing straight ahead, and Leonard doesn’t know what to do. He closes the door quietly, although he doubts it’s soft enough to hide it from Spock’s hearing.

When he sits down next to Spock, Leonard doesn’t know what to do or say. “Spock,” he says, sliding his hand over one of Spock’s own. The eyes that turn to him are so profoundly empty; he’s reminded of case studies from his psych rotation.

“I did not need to be found,” Spock says, but his voice is unsteady, and his hand trembling.

“Let me help you,” Leonard says. “As your doctor, or your friend, or something else, whatever you want.”

“What I want does not matter,” Spock says.

The worst part of all of this—worse than getting his molecules erased at a speed that still hurts his brain to think about—is hearing Spock so defeated. Leonard takes a deep breath; his innate defensiveness won’t help anything.

“Why, Spock?” All Leonard wants is to invent time travel and go back and undo or redo a few things, because maybe they wouldn’t be here.

But they are, and Spock is unharmed, though not yet safe.

“My head does not belong to me, despite my best efforts. All these useless things that I feel.” Spock draws his hand away from Leonard’s and returns it to his lap. “I wish for my existence to be simpler,” he says.

Leonard sighs and turns his body towards Spock. He brushes the hair off of Spock’s forehead, lightly, the way he’d done when he gave Spock a coward’s good bye kiss. He leans forward and kisses Spock’s forehead, a bare press of his lips on Spock’s skin. “We can help you with that,” he says, head now pressed against Spock’s forehead. “Let us.”

He lifts a shaky hand to Spock’s face, pulling his own head back to observe the long, drawn lines thereof. _Spock should never look so defeated_ , he thinks. “Let me,” Leonard echoes, tracing his fingers across the face he so loves.

-

He does not turn himself into a pillar of salt like his mother, nor does he give up the emotions that have brought him so close to ruin. Spock works, as he has and will do for his entire life, at being better. He is no longer alone, though the ache encoded in his mind does not cease to attempt to sway him otherwise.

 

Spock arises to the warmth of Leonard’s body around him and the artificial sunrise programmed in their quarters, and continues.

**Author's Note:**

> title, as mentioned before, is from tender is the night by f. scott fitzgerald, as is the quoted bit in the letter. that book is one of my favorite depictions of mental illness, although fitzgerald himself is not the best.  
> ("She felt the nameless fear which precedes all emotions, joyous or sorrowful, inevitably as a hum of thunder precedes a storm.")
> 
> some recommended listening: liability by lorde and this year by cooper 
> 
> i guess uhura and scotty aren't technically canon in tos, but whatever. i still dig it. there may be a coda to this sometime, but probably not soon!
> 
> Although I don’t delve deeply into Spock being suicidal it is very much based on my own experiences in the past, and particularly last november. I know that no one wants to hear it gets better, because it never feels that way. I know that my own depression will come back, and I will stare at my positive writing and hate myself for believing that things could stay good. But things change, if nothing else. If you are unwell mentally, please reach out to someone you trust. if they do not help, reach out to someone else. https://www.metanoia.org/suicide/ is a site that has often helped calm me down long enough to survive to the next moment and days and weeks. We aren’t alone, even if our brains try very hard to make us feel that way.
> 
> thanks for reading, and live long and prosper.


End file.
